


but still, stay stay stay with me

by boybinary



Series: baby, you are loved [1]
Category: ONF (Band), 믹스나인 | MIXNINE (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Sleeping Habits, hes such a good, i love jaeyoung so much, mm platonic, online hate, takes place in ep 9, ㅋㅋㅋ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boybinary/pseuds/boybinary
Summary: he lets himself cry because the room is empty.





	but still, stay stay stay with me

**Author's Note:**

> for mapachii on tumblr!  
> thanks for the request
> 
> ok this took rlly long bc i was planning on writing a huge long fic about rubin receiving the love he deserves but then dhjdjhkdn tHE FINALE and i knew i had to post smth so heres the first part ㅋㅋ. stay tuned for the rest tysm
> 
> title from stay by blackpink!

It’s— it’s sometime early in the morning. But _of course_ it’s sometime early in the morning, if not for the morning what other time would the practice rooms be so deserted, so empty, so quiet? No, some teams practice well into the morning, he knows. The teams with the debut team members with the bone-deep need to practice until they passed out— those teams, full of red. He can hear Bang Bang Bang team a few rooms down, the thrum of their music and the _clack-clack_ of their shoes on the wood and their huffed gasps when the music explodes into silence.

No, no. They’re too far away for him to hear that, he’s— he’s imagining things, things like— like how the circular lights seem to pulse with his heartbeat. Imagining things like how the default grey bust that head the anonymous commenters seem to form angry eyes and angry mouths to spew the words in the bubbles, the words like “Rubin disgusts me”, “Lee Rubin can stick his princely persona up his behind”, “I hate Rubin I hate Rubin I hate Rubin”—

And it’s so very late at night—or early in the morning, time is confusing—that he’s imagining things like how the little square at the bottom of his screen says 05:17 am, 05:23 am, 05:25 am. Wait— that’s the actual time. He blinks. Is it really already 5 am? Has it really been three hours since the rest of Hug’$ went to bed— two hours since he’d sat down, pulled his laptop over, and opened— what was it? Twitter? He has four tabs open and every single one features swears, the word “MIXNINE”, and his name. Rubin. Lee Rubin. Liveworks’ Lee Rubin, Lee Rubin _Lee Rubin Lee Rubin_.

He buries his head in his knees. Everything is a mess— a mess of browns and greys and oranges and exhaustion and loathing for— himself, for his stupid _self_ , for the fans that say what he knows is true, for himself again for saying “I’m going to practice some more, you guys head on” so the room would be empty as he scrolls through whatever sites with the default grey or white anon bust and cruel words, so the room would be empty as he lets out a shaky breath against his knees, so the room would be empty when he sheds his kind, flirty, princely character and lets the insecure, vulnerable, horrible weak terrified _desperate_ side of him rise out like a phoenix from the ashes.

The room is empty. Rubin lets himself cry a little, because the room is empty. He lets himself slump against the wall, because the room is empty, he lets himself bleed the exhaustion away with every tear, because the room is empty, he lets himself cry out loud (quiet) because the room is empty, empty of people of cameras of eyes and brains that will see him and judge him. He lets him cry, lets the words wash over him, thick and black and suffocating ( _disgusting, disgusting, disgusting, disgusting disgusting disgusting_ ). He lets himself cry because that’s his routine, that is routine to him now, he’s worked it into his schedule and even though he wakes up more and more tired every day, it’s— it’s routine.

Except this time the room is not empty when he lets out that tiny sigh against the rough denim of his jeans. Except this time the door creaks open when the sob is half-formed, bitter and mangled. Except this time he is _seen_ , shoulders heaving and breaths shallow and tears hot against the swell of his cheek, and this is _not how it should be like_ —

The figure is a smudge of grey and blue, topped with a head of blonde. “Rubin-ah?” Jaeyoung. It’s Jaeyoung, towering over him and suddenly the kind hearted rapper is _right there_ , the toes of his dorm slippers bumping against the laptop, broad back blocking out the lights, _oh god he’s right there_ and Rubin chokes on another sob. “H-hey, um, Rubin-ah…? _Rubin_ , lis—”

Jaeyoung is _terrifying_ , even when he backs away a little and kneels, brushing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. A blink and the tears clinging to his lashes roll down the side of his nose, vision fuzzing and blurring and clearing, all erratically like a scratched CD. “Rubin, Rubin, Rubin _listen_ to me” is lost as soon as the words leave Jaeyoung’s lips, and somewhere along the way the shape of his lips from “Rubin Rubin Rubin” change to “why are you such a _failure_ , Rubin?” and even though the wall is heavy and solid behind him Rubin slams his back against the panelling when Jaeyoung inches closer.

“Don’t don’t don’t, stop saying that” gushes out as a wet gasp. “It’s not true, leave me alone” is a choked exhale. “I’m not that, I promise I’m not that” doesn’t come out at all, lodging into a deep painful part of his chest and clenching it’s ugly fingers around the _boom boom boomboom boomboomboomboom_ of his heart, crushing his lungs with footsteps on his ribs, tightening tightening tigh—

“Rubin!” Jaeyoung’s hands are cupping his cheeks and fingertips pressing in and it hurts when Rubin yanks his face away— tries to yank his face away, shaking his head, hair whipping back and forth and back and forth and sputtering like a dying machine. _Stop stop stop let go of me don’t touch me I’m disgusting you already think I’m disgusting_ — “Rubin, Rubin, good lord will you just stop!”

_Just stop what? being like this?_

_You think I would still be like this if I knew how to stop it?_

“No no nonono, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, hush…” Jaeyoung is saying, deep and husky and warming over Rubin’s back like a hot shower. His hands trail down Rubin’s nape, down his shoulderblades, soft and deliberate and grinding him down. Back up, resting on his upper arm and gently pushing his head down until his forehead collides with the warm skin of Jaeyoung’s shoulder. “hush, hush, it’s okay, it’s okay Rubinnie…”

And Rubin lets himself cry even though the room isn’t empty, isn’t void of eyes and brains and hands and words, isn’t void of things that could hurt him— he lets himself cry, heavy breaths and tears spilling a patch of dark grey-blue onto Jaeyoung’s shoulder. He lets himself cry even though he’s not thinking about those four tabs or the evil blank faces spitting words that burn his skin, not thinking about anything really but Jaeyoung’s hands soothing down his back, Jaeyoung’s voice whispering “it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay” into his neck, Jaeyoung’s chin resting lightly on the top of his head—

He lets himself cry despite all that because there’s someone who’s willing to sit with him, willing to hold him, willing to cry with him (even though he has no idea what torments Rubin so late at night)—

Because there’s someone who’s willing to comfort him, and— and well, that’s so much more than Rubin had hoped for.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @dumplingyin  
> twitter @yinsums


End file.
